Never: A trio of firsts
by PCninja
Summary: This was initially published as a one-shot. But...it will now be three very short pieces, each from Ziva's perspective.
1. Chapter 1

Thump, thump, thump; the heavy beat leaps from her heart and seeks refuge in her ears as an invisible heat snakes its way up her neck and embraces her cheeks.

Her mind takes her to the ceiling rafter in the warehouse, diffusing the bomb, trying to take in more air; danger seemed to absorb oxygen like a greedy deviant. He followed her, and he didn't even know why.

She takes a shallow breath in through the nose, her lips parting slightly in an attempt to deepen the inhale.

A fleeting memory of a time when she had defended all that she had known, placed trust in others, accused him, only to discover that it was all a deceitful fabrication. And he put everything on the line. For her.

A thin film of sweat settles on her palms, a sensation quite unfamiliar as she rarely loses her cool. She allows her hands to lightly graze her thighs and harbours faint hope that the trouser fabric will coerce the perspiration away from her skin.

The image remains etched; him bound to the chair, intentionally captured, her, ready to die. He couldn't live without her, she would not have survived without him.

As her gaze is absorbed into the pools of blue intently fixed on her, a gentle smile emerges to adorn her face.

What would a woman possibly see in him? He is a good person. He has always had her back. He is Tony Dinozzo. And that is why she loves him.

The chaos of the day ceases to exist as his warm breath delicately reaches out to caress her before his lips press softly into hers.

She has endured hand to hand combat and innumerable hostile situations, always maintaining a sense of calm, yet she had been overcome with nervousness as he leaned in to her.

She wraps her arms around him and pulls him closer, losing herself in the moment as time evaporates and she realises precisely why nerves had taken a hold seconds earlier.

Because never has a first kiss meant so much.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun surreptitiously makes its presence known as the warm tendrils taunt her as she sleeps.

Encased in her subconscious, the flickering light is transposed to resemble a tune she would rather forget; the coarse, black fabric grating her skin and forbidding her to identify those responsible; the torment enhanced by the allusion to something beyond the concrete confines as a glow infiltrates the covering, as if to gloat, before swiftly withdrawing.

She desperately takes in oxygen through her nostrils, filling her lungs until they are bulging underneath her ribcage before she expels the air, a fleeting, yet clearly pained whimper attaching itself to the exhalation. Her right hip is snugly cradled by the mattress beneath her, her left no longer stranded in solitude as his soft palm tenderly takes residence, his fingers folding around the joint to dangle delicately onto her abdomen.

With a careful crack of the eyes, she makes out the incandescent digits: 6:32. The sun has abandoned its ruse as it dances erratically between the wind-tangled branches outside the window and the rays leap around the room with careless abandon. She anticipates that the devious felon, always waiting for her to wake from such dreams, will strike at any moment. The grip on her chest is imperceptible at first, before tightening malevolently so that she must barter for air with short, sharp gasps.

But the familiar foe is noticeably absent.

She blinks three times to adjust her focus and lies still to observe the contents of the wardrobe, proudly on display since the doors had failed to reconvene following their parting the night before. Countless shirts, obediently lined up, jackets equally compliant on the rail below. Folded sweaters parked on the shelves above t-shirts and shorts, the drawers no doubt harbouring items of a more intimate nature. It is only then that she becomes aware of the heat radiating from her left hip, the slightly callused finger pads brushing against her belly.

As she twists onto her back, the slide of his warm hand smoothly sketches a line across her silky torso. He draws her closer and buries his face in the chocolate locks sprawled carelessly across the pillow, while sleep, a seductive temptress, lures him back for an encore amidst the sweet scent of shampoo.

With a turn of her head, her nose brushes his Adam's apple, the musky scent of his aftershave greeting her like a comforting friend. She closes her eyes and drinks in his smell, his bare skin against hers and the weight of his arm resting across her bringing a peaceful smile to her lips.

A barely audible whisper escapes her as she drifts contentedly back into slumber, 'Tony'.

'Ziva' he replies airily, the reassurance consolidated with a sleepy kiss atop her head and the tightening hold around her waist.

Just knowing he is there is enough. She is safe in a way she never thought possible.

Waking up in his arms for the first time means more than she could ever have imagined.


	3. Chapter 3

Unannounced, they enter. No fanfare, no fuss. They simply spill into the room and linger, filling the air with a magnitude worthy of greater accolades than the Scottish lilt and distant gunshots emanating from the television.

A fruity aroma tantalizes her senses as she raises the wine glass to her lips, the liquid warming the path to her stomach until it settles and relegates the heat to her cheeks.

Releasing a contented exhale as the vessel returns to the coffee table with a 'clink', she surrenders herself to the gentle slope of the couch, the wine-induced tranquility urging her back in a languid lean until she locates her desired destination. She feels a twitch at the base of her head as his bicep welcomes the weight, his outstretched arm hinging at the elbow, his hand greeting her forearm with a tender embrace.

Her legs brush over the ash coloured suede as they curl up and sit neatly to the right of her, evoking a memory that seems concurrently tenuous and fitting. It is the cool, velvety fabric that brings the reptile to mind and the recollection of her abhorrent declaration of nature defied, should a snake try to crawl back into a skin once shed. She allows her left cheek to seek repose against his collar-bone as she banishes the cast-off remnants of a time, place and person she barely recognizes further into her mind's recesses. The affectionate tracing of a line back and forth at the crook of her arm reminds her that this skin shall not be outgrown.

She wraps her arm around him, drawing herself in closer. It is as though the proximity directly correlates to the feeling of adoration overwhelming her as she tucks her head under his chin, the faint scent of garlic, red wine and aftershave concocting a soothing elixir. His left arm reciprocates by resting across her waist, his hand providing protective reassurance as it fans flat against her lower back, his right abandoning its prior canvas as the side of his index finger tenderly strokes her face.

She knew it to be true, but she never anticipated that hearing it would represent the first time she truly understood what it meant.

The crown of her head begins to bare the brunt of a growing heaviness and his hand delicately drops to perch upon her shoulder; the increasingingly deeper breathes indicate that sleep is not too far away.

But before he succumbs, he tightens his hold briefly, a physical accompaniment to emphasize the words as they tumble out in a moment signifying a simultaneous first and last.

'I love you Ziva'.


End file.
